


Invitation to the Dance

by Viridian5



Category: due South
Genre: Hanging Out, Humor, M/M, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-05-21
Updated: 2001-05-21
Packaged: 2017-10-02 09:35:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viridian5/pseuds/Viridian5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray gets a few surprises on his day off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Invitation to the Dance

**Author's Note:**

> Ray dances to "Kool Roc Bass" by the Lo Fidelity Allstars. The Cantonese name Fraser uses for _Supercop_ is from the Internet Movie Database.
> 
> Read-through by Kass, LaT, and Te.

_Bad_ case, long case, with no leads that didn't send them into a dead end, and yesterday had been the worst. The guys who'd been shooting at them couldn't even be connected to anything they were working on.

One of the mayor's cronies had been robbed, and the mayor was spreading the torment around.

Ray knew he needed this day off, his first in a while, but a large part of him wanted to keep on chasing what they had until the case broke. Which, at this rate, would mean that he'd never have a day off again, so he'd accepted his day as gracefully as he could. Besides he knew he had to stand back for a bit to freshen up his head, get a bit of distance. If you stood too close to something, it was impossible to see it for what it was.

Ray threaded his fingers together and stretched his arms as straight up and out as he could, pulling his whole body up, standing on his bare tiptoes. His body was as stiff as uncooked spaghetti--and about as easy to snap--from tension, and his neck felt way too tight. Only long, hot showers--the poor man's vacation--had kept him from locking up totally the last few days. He pondered the thought of taking one now to help limber up, but he'd only get sweated up all over again, so what was the point?

Ray felt his apartment's too cool air on his bare arms and through his thin T-shirt and the holes in his jeans, but he wouldn't feel it for long. As his fingers tapped their way through CD jewel boxes, he sorted and selected for what he needed: something fast, with a good beat and heavy bass. He figured he could turn up the volume a bit too since nobody would be around at 10 a.m. on a Tuesday morning.

Got it.

The song started slow, with heavy bass, rattling him to his bones, and he swayed to it, still limbering up. "It's battle time!" the song's sample shouted, and the bass sped up and gained a drumbeat. Ray moved with it, gaining speed and flexibility. Something in his neck cricked with a small but sharp burst of pain, but he could move it again now, so he didn't mind much. Ray started to dance.

Sort of.

It wasn't a finesse thing, this dancing: just jumping, twisting, jerking, spinning, pounding, thrusting, pushing.... Trying to throw all the tension and frustration and anger out. Kind of an interpretative dance, one that could be titled "If Only I Could Kick Them All in the Head." As he warmed and loosened up, Ray started to grin fiercely. The apartment seemed to spin around him as he flew, his living room revealed and hidden again and again as he flung his arms around. He slowed and sped up along with the music, letting it dictate to him. Nothing mattered except moving, and Ray lost himself for a while.

He swayed as the song slowed to a close, then slid down on his knees, a sweaty, overheated, rubbery-limbed, loose, tired, and contented mess. Perfect. Of course, he had to use the remote to turn off his stereo, but this was still miles away better than he'd felt in a while. At least now he felt good tired instead of dead tired.

Then he heard a knock at the door. At least whoever-the-fuck had waited until he was done. Not that he could have heard anything through the music anyway.

Ray pulled himself to his feet and sway-walked his way over to the door. He'd gone from uncooked spaghetti to overcooked spaghetti. Everything felt too loose now, but a happy too loose. When he opened the door, Fraser smiled, then flared his nostrils a little bit.

Ray covered his surprise at seeing him and asked, "I reek, huh?"

"Not really, Ray. There's nothing wrong with healthy exercise. Quite the opposite."

Dief barked in a way that sounded like a doggy laugh to Ray. Ray shook his head, which didn't produce the usual blur of bright serge red since Fraser didn't have his uniform on. Hmm. Not that he minded, since Fraser was scenic in civvies. "I thought you didn't have your day off till Thursday."

"I negotiated with Inspector Thatcher until she agreed to switch my day off. I had to promise her my firstborn child, though." Fraser's eyes flickered to the side suddenly, as if something caught his attention there.

"What, does she eat babies?"

"Ray!"

"You make a funny; I make a funny. That's how it works."

"I didn't think yours was particularly funny."

"Which is why you're still standing in my doorway instead of inside my apartment. Oh, hell, come in already."

As Ray walked to his kitchen, he could swear he heard Fraser mutter, "That comment was unnecessary, Dad." Well, Fraser was edgy and tightly strung too right now, so maybe he was seeing and hearing things. More than usual.

Ray also felt Fraser staring, so he whipped around to catch his partner at it and smirked as Fraser, realizing he'd been caught, apologized. "Forgive me, Ray. I've never seen you looking like this, and I can tell that you didn't intend to have company." Then Fraser seemed to think of something else. "Not that you don't look fine any--"

Seeing that this could go on for a while if he didn't intervene, Ray said, "No problem, Fraser. I figure I'm something of what you'd call a 'sight' right now. Yeah, this is why I spike my hair. Dandelion head otherwise. At least gel gives me some control."

"It was flat during the Volpe case."

"Gelled flat, and it kept fighting me until it got dirty enough to start lying down on its own."

"The Spender case?"

"Once the overnight sleep sweat dried up, it sproinged. Trust me." Were they really having a conversation about his hair? Only Fraser.

"Actually, I was staring at the seat of your jeans, not your hair."

Checking out his ass, huh? "You're sweet, Fraser."

"Ray, you have candy-striped underwear visible through the holes near the back pockets."

Oh yeah. Maybe not, then. "Look, I could shower and change--"

"You don't have to, not for me," Fraser said, but Ray noticed that Fraser couldn't quite look below his chin at any point, the worn out T-shirt and jeans being indecent by Mountie standards. "I came by hoping to help you relax." Looking a little embarrassed, Fraser pulled out a six-pack of Canadian beer bottles from behind his back. Really good Canadian beer.

After Ray picked his jaw up off the floor, he said, "If I knew you'd be bringing beer, I would have worn my good underwear. The Spider-Man ones. Wow, I should get shot at more often." When Fraser winced, Ray said, "I'm sorry; I know that really wasn't funny."

"You're right."

"You having a beer with me? If a guy drinks alone, it's usually a sign that he's on his way to being an alcoholic."

Fraser did a Fraser smirk. Maybe three people in the world would recognize it as a smirk. "Far be it from me to condemn you to such a life."

"Coolness." Ray took the six-pack, gave one to Fraser, left one on the counter island for himself, and took the rest into the kitchen to put into the fridge.

On his way back out to the living room, Ray could hear Fraser whispering to Diefenbaker. "I am not here to get him dr-- I am not here for that either. No. No." A choking sound, then, "I'm so thankful Ray can't understand you. I don't need you asking him if he's your new daddy, no matter how facetiously meant."

Oh-_kay_. Did that all really sound like what Ray thought it sounded like?

It was just Dief being snarky, not for real. Except that... Dief "talking" had to really be Fraser's weird mind providing the words because, you know, dogs didn't really talk.

Ray's head hurt.

Only one way to deal with that. Ray called out, "You guys aren't plotting against me out there, are ya?" to let them know he was coming. And because he was evil.

How evil became clear as Fraser quickly straightened up, a bit of a blush in his cheeks and ears. "Why, no, Ray."

Uh-huh. Fraser comes over--with beer even--and Dief's getting snarky about Fraser liquoring his good buddy Ray up and taking advantage. Could be Ray was wrong, but it seemed like he was about to get a move put on him by a certain Mountie he'd thought he'd known.

If so, cool.

"What were your plans for the day?" Fraser asked.

Ray had planned to take a shower first, but now he had that war of politeness going. Shower to be a little less aromatic to his guest or stick around and keep his guest occupied? Then again, Fraser seemed to like him au naturel, so....

"Watch a rental and laze around, mostly. I picked up _Supercop_ last night."

"Considering our current case, I would think you wouldn't want to be reminded of police work on your day off."

"Our" case? Cool. "_Supercop_ doesn't have anything to do with real police work, just like the plot, if you can call it that, has nothing to do with reality. It's all an excuse for the fight scenes."

Fraser's raised eyebrow and perplexed look made a verbal response unnecessary. Ray answered, "It's not like real violence or nothing. It's like kick-ass ballet, graceful and high-flying. Inventive too. Jackie Chan's always great, and I heard that Michelle Yeoh rocks. You can stay and watch if you wanna."

"Thank you. I'm curious about your 'kick-ass ballet.'"

"Then have a seat and make yourself at home." Ray popped the tape in and settled into a sprawl on the couch. "Fraser, make yourself comfortable. Uncross your hands, and put your feet up on the coffee table, which is what it's there for. Mi table es su table. But take your boots off first."

Fraser looked amused. "Your fussiness is terribly selective, Ray."

"Yeah, yeah." Ray wiggled his toes a bit, which seemed to inspire Fraser to shuck the boots and put his feet up beside Ray's. Still in socks, though.

"Kindly stop smirking at me. I'm simply doing as you requested."

"Smirk? Me? Heaven forbid." And all he'd needed to overturn years of indoctrination was a little toe wiggle. This could go places. Not that Fraser's feet were _close_ close, no toe tango here, but they could work on that. Ray couldn't help thinking that getting Fraser to take his socks off would be that first step down the slippery slope to full strip.

Ray would have to see how powerful his toes could be. Subtly, though. Fraser wasn't a blatant kind of guy.

Understatement of the year.

Ray started the tape and sat back. Oops, the couch was dipping, letting him slide a little toward Fraser. However did that happen? Fraser gave him a sidelong glance but said nothing. Radiated a lot of heat, though. Which could just be something automatic, like Fraser's heart beating, but Ray chose to take it as encouragement. And it felt nice.

Ray took a swig of his beer and clinked his bottle against Fraser's. "Good stuff. Thanks."

"I wouldn't get you anything less than the best."

Ray would keep that in mind. "Of course not, Benton-buddy."

As the movie rolled, Ray's smile got deeper and deeper as Fraser struggled not to say anything about the plot. Guy was going to spontaneously combust soon from the effort.

About 20 minutes in, Fraser said, "That was really unlikely." He looked like he felt better afterward.

"Are you paying attention to the plot after I told you not to?"

"No, Ray." Liar. "I'm talking about the fighting. That jump...."

"The actors do all their own stunts, y'know. They have a blooper reel at the end to show when they fucked up."

"Why?"

"To show people that you shouldn't try this stuff at home?"

"I meant, why would they risk their lives like that?"

"The guy who jumps outta windows when there's a perfectly good staircase nearby has the nerve to ask about people risking their lives for weird reasons?"

"This is entertainment. I do it in the pursuit of justice." Fraser's mouth started to quiver under Ray's stare until it broke into a rueful smile. "That was rather bombastic, wasn't it?"

"Totally. Cute, though."

"I think I'll be quiet now."

"Your choice, guy."

Fraser got through the rest of the film without another complaint and even seemed mesmerized by some of the acrobatics. Ray just drank his very good beer, let the movie's idea of reality wash over him, and didn't judge. Michelle Yeoh did kick ass.

Ray did notice when Fraser stretched, because one arm ended up on the top of the couch behind him and stayed there. Every time he leaned back his shoulders brushed against it. Classic move. He leaned back often as a version of applause and let his hand accidentally brush Fraser's leg once and awhile.

Fraser's socks stayed on so far.

After they winced their way through the suffering exposed in the blooper reel at the end, Ray asked, "What did ya think?"

"The lack of rational plot bothered me, but I found the martial arts displays exhilarating."

"I may make an action film junkie out of you yet. 'Course, you'll probably be reading their lips and ignoring the dubbing, but that might be entertaining all by itself. If they say anything really weird in the original vocal track, you can let me know."

"I believe that Turnbull enjoys a Hong Kong martial arts film now and then."

"You're kidding."

"In fact, I think he may have mentioned this movie under its original name: _Jing cha gu shi III: Chao ji jing cha_. Ray?"

Ray figured he'd caught enough flies, so he closed his mouth, then opened it again to say, "Don't mind me. My brain is bending as reality twists and warps around me. But I'm fine, really. You ever watch that stuff with him?"

"He gets violently enthusiastic while viewing these films. It's far better to leave him alone."

"Gotcha." Ray leaned back against Fraser's arm, letting it support his neck. He rubbed his hair against Fraser's flannel and bare skin, then stretched a bit, scissoring his arms out above his head, letting his thin T-shirt ride up, wiggling his toes.

"Ray." Fraser's voice sounded scorching hot. His breath against Ray's cheek sure was.

Ray didn't turn to look. He didn't have to, not with a Mountie almost in his lap. "Yeah?"

"What else were you going to do today?"

"The same thing I do every day: try to take over the world." When that got only incomprehension, Ray said, "I figured I'd jerk off and laze around. Wanna help?"

Fraser actually stopped for a moment, trying to process it in that "wait, that was _far_ too easy" way. "Was that an invitation?" he finally asked.

"Do I have to engrave something?"

"Will you only answer me with questions from here on in?"

"Do you want me to?"

"No." And then Fraser really did climb into his lap but did nothing other than breathe on Ray, driving him nuts. "I have a confession. I came here hoping that something like this would happen. I see that you guessed as much."

Ray didn't say that hearing Fraser talking it out with his dog helped. "The beer tipped me off."

"Ah. I had plans and fantasies, highly detailed ones. You surpassed all of them."

"Yeah?" Ray felt no shame that his conversational skills had degraded that far, not when he had a heaving Mountie in his lap face to face with him, almost forehead to forehead.

"As I waited at the door for your music to finish, I imagined you moving to it. Your heat, your scent, the sweat running along your hairline.... Then you opened the door, and it was even better than I imagined."

"How?" Ray asked, getting ever more turned on and frustrated. Fortunately, he liked frustration. They might have screened applicants for that while looking for a stand-in for Vecchio.

"I could almost taste your heat and the scent of your clean sweat from the air. I could easily see the outline of your hard nipples through that thin excuse for a shirt you're wearing. The holes in your jeans provided tantalizing glimpses of skin, while the denim was worn out in very suggestive places. And your feet were bare, showing off what looked like very dexterous toes."

Ray laughed, then gasped as Fraser rocked against him. "My _toes_?" Ray finally asked. "My dexterous looking toes? What in hell do you think I'll be able to do with my toes, or do I wanna know?"

"I simply like them."

"I better not find out you have some high expectations of things I can do with my toes."

Fraser's lips were an inch from Ray's. "I'm sure you'll surprise me anyway."

"Mmm. Bed. Now."

Fraser rocked a little. "Here is fine."

"No, it's not. I just worked my muscles loose. If I get bent out of shape again, it's gonna be from things you do to me, not from doing stuff on the couch. Fraser. Get. Off."

"Don't mind if I do."

Ray writhed under the moving weight across his lap and whatever the hell Fraser was doing to the back of his head. The back of his _head_, for God's sake, and who knew anybody could have a Spot on the back of his head? But he wouldn't be put off. "Evil Mounties don't get any...." Damn. His words said no, but his voice sounded like "make me."

Fraser kept doing things with his mouth and Ray's chest, and Ray's cock didn't seem to care if the body it was attached to got bent out of shape. If this kept up, he'd be having sex on the couch, and Fraser would be insufferable. More insufferable. Whatever. "Fraser?" Ray moaned.

"Yes, Ray?" Fraser asked while taking a break from nibbling one of Ray's nipples through the thin shirt.

"We're about to knock one of the beer bottles to the floor. It still has some in it. Beer, I mean."

"What?" The lust cleared a bit, bringing a return to the regularly scheduled Fraser. "Ray, I'm--"

Ray took advantage of his distraction to push him off and dart over the back of the couch, out of Mountie reach. "Bed."

Fraser looked chagrined sitting on his ass on the carpet. "Sneaky."

Mussed too. Nicely mussed.... It made Ray glad that he had a couch between them. The cool air on his tingling, wet nipple didn't help matters either. Good thing the jeans had worn out so much that he had extra room.

"If you didn't already know that, you haven't been paying attention, Benton-buddy. Bed."

"No."

"And why not?"

"I'm happy here."

"On the floor?"

"You know full well what I mean."

"It's a shame. Could have been magic." Ray walked over to the fridge, putting a little extra sway into his walk, and whistled. He realized that he was whistling "Patience" by Guns 'N Roses, which almost cracked him up, but he had an effect to go for.

Fraser still sat on the floor and looked caught between being annoyed and amused. "What are you doing now?"

"Well, I've got toys and slick in my room, and now I've got beer. Thanks, Fraser." Ray took one out and saluted him before closing the door and walking towards his room. At that point Dief trotted over, tail wagging and tongue hanging out. "I got you too, guy?" Ray then gave Dief an elaborately speculative look for Fraser's benefit.

"Oh please, Ray."

"You don't know what I'm into." Ray crouched down and got his face licked. "As long as it's safe and consensual...."

When Ray looked up, Fraser was sitting on the couch, unzipping his fly. Low blow, Ray thought as his mouth started to water. If he didn't leave the room now, he'd end up on the couch. Ray stood and walked to his room, tossing, "You made your bed. Now you get to lie in it all alone," over his shoulder as a parting shot.

He very deliberately neglected to close the door.

Dief raced in with him and leapt onto the bed. Tongue lolling, tail wagging madly, he stared at Ray.

"You do know I was just kidding Fraser about that, right?" Ray whispered, since Fraser sat outside and Dief was a lip-reading deaf wolf. How did his life reach a point where he was having conversations with lip-reading deaf wolves anyway? "I don't want a sexlife that could fit into the Savage Love column, and Fraser would kill me if I let you watch me or had you participate, y'know?" Dief circled for a little bit, then settled down on the bed. "He put you up to this, didn't he?" Dief just smirked. "You know that if you lie there so I can't get my groove on, he'll win, right?" Dief snorted, then leapt off the bed and left the room. Ray did a little victory dance, then started whistling again as he gathered his tools together.

Getting the jeans off took an age since his feet kept getting caught in the various holes, but he managed it, and the T-shirt and briefs took only seconds. The cool air on his skin made goosebumps, but he wouldn't be cold for long. Once he'd settled himself on his already rumpled bed, still whistling, he started to slick up Big Red. Maybe there was a market out there for Mountie fetishists, because the dildo was exactly the shade of red Fraser wore.

Ray's cock was already erect and dripping, so he could head on toward the main event. As his non-slick hand stroked down his stomach, he could feel the short hairs on his skin standing on end and caressing his palm. Yay, goosebumps. It added to his feeling of shivery anticipation. Fraser nearby. Ray avoided his hard cock completely and went right to stroking his balls, then behind them. He finally set his slick hand where he needed it and started to caress his rim in hard circles, which made his legs part further on their own and made him moan. While he didn't get too theatrical with the noises, he didn't muffle them either. Let Fraser hear. Let Fraser imagine him....

As he stroked, he found out that he was already so relaxed that his finger started to slide in a little on its own. He wanted it that badly. So he started with two fingers and drove straight for his sweet spot, every thrust striking sparks of pleasure he felt all the way down to his long, dexterous toes. He smiled at the grunting sounds he couldn't help. Such a greedy little piglet Ray. But he was ready. Totally ready.

As he reached for the dildo, Ray saw Fraser watching him from the doorway, jeans open, cock hard, hunger in his eyes. Ray gave him the sweetest smile he had, then slowly pushed Big Red in, watching Fraser the whole time. It didn't even burn much this time, he was so ready, though the width of it made him feel full and stretched. Panting, he had to close his eyes as he started the steady in-and-out motion, trying to breathe through the pleasure and the feel of Fraser's eyes burning his skin. Fraser watching him as he lay there spread wide open, moaning and desperate. That thought ratcheted all the sensations higher, and Ray felt his cock jump and his balls tense as he--

A hand gripping the base of his cock hard stopped him. Another hand suddenly rested atop his on the dildo and stopped him there as well. Ray opened his eyes to look at Fraser.

"I can't let you do that, Ray."

When did Fraser get naked? Not that Ray was complaining....

"No? Why not?" Ray gasped.

"Because this is for me, isn't it?"

Was that one of those rhetorical things? Just to keep his bases covered, Ray said, "Yeah. It is."

"Good." Fraser took one of the condoms off the nightstand and put it on Ray, following up with a liberal coating of slick.

Even as Ray squirmed and tried not to explode, he kept thinking. "You're--"

"Yes."

"But you're not--"

"I did. In the living room. As I listened to you preparing yourself."

Holy shit. Ray's cock jerked in Fraser's hand. "I don't think this is going to take very long. Sorry. There's not going to be much finesse in it either. It's been a while."

"We have a whole day off."

Who was he to turn down a gift Mountie? "That assumes you do this today."

Fraser looked like he wished he could tease a while longer first, but his own desperation seemed to win out. "Right you are." He climbed on top of Ray and slowly impaled himself. Watching his cock slide up into Fraser's body had to be the sexiest thing Ray had ever seen, so he fought the strong urge to close his eyes as waves of lust swamped him.

When Fraser finally let go of the base of Ray's cock, Ray's first buck almost took them off the bed. That was _Fraser_ up there, commonly thought to be Mr. Pure As the Driven Snow, competing with Ray for the Slut of the Year award, and Ray had brought him to it.

As much as Ray tried to control himself, he couldn't help being rough and fast as he was thrusting up into his partner's tight heat. His cock was home, excited to be there, and no more inclined to calm down than its supposed owner was. But Fraser seemed to be loving it, riding him, controlling him a bit, even yelling in a deeper, almost broken voice that he wanted it harder now and then. Ray was overloading, barely able to think under all the feelings and sensations coming at him, since he felt stretched and full but also tightly held at the same time. Lost under the heat and throb and slick, sliding connection.

He didn't want it to end. He did want it to end, just so he could watch Fraser come.

They were both making noises that would have made his neighbors wonder if somebody was getting murdered in his apartment. That didn't even count the squeaking springs or the banging of his bed against the wall. Fortunately, far as he knew, none of them were home.

Fraser's hand toying with the dildo still in him, twisting it a bit, pushing it in and out now and then, didn't help Ray calm down at all either. Each stroke in, bringing a wave of electric pleasure, made Ray stroke up. Fraser's ability to multi-task came in so handy.

The sight of Fraser exultant, sweat gleaming on his pale skin and mingling with Ray's, eyes closed, tongue flicking out across his bottom lip now and then, too good, too much, brought Ray to the edge, so, wanting company, he fisted Fraser's cock. Utterly wild and abandoned, Fraser shouted Ray's name and came, pushing the dildo in further and clenching down on Ray's cock. Ray either came or died, he wasn't sure, but at the very least he felt like he'd shot his spine and maybe some vital organs out while somehow enjoying every second of it.

When Ray could think again, he had Fraser lying next to him, just breathing. All right, just breathing and toying with the dildo that Ray still had inside him. Then he was just breathing, toying with the dildo, and licking Ray's neck.

"Dammit, Fraser," Ray gasped, "we're both about 40 years old." And their last go-round had left him a mere puddle of the Ray he'd been. Loose and happy and tension-free, yeah, but unable to move a single loose, happy, and tension-free muscle, even if the things Fraser kept doing to him did still strike little sparks.

"I thought you were made of sterner stuff."

"I own a gun, you know."

"But you're currently in no shape to get up and use it." But Fraser grinned and put his head down on Ray's chest. His hair tickled Ray's sensitized skin. "I don't have any designs on your virtue for a while. I just... like this."

"What virtue? And, yeah, I like this too." Fraser's hair had gotten long enough that it was starting to curl at the ends, so Ray wound it through his fingers a bit, which was about as much as he could do with the strength he had left. "I think you succeeded in relaxing me."

 

### End


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